There's Something About This (2)
In the dream, his face had been obscured, but that reverent aura and physique couldn't be hidden. That's how Ghislain knew for sure.
Since it had come to this, he wanted to confirm whether the man was truly the founding king. After a brief self-introduction, Ghislain immediately asked what he was curious about.
"Are you… from a noble family, by any chance?"
"I am."
"May I ask which house you're from?"
"I am a knight who has devoted himself to the goddess. My family name has lost its meaning."
In other words, he had no intention of using his family's name for gain. He was as upright as he looked. Clicking his tongue, Ghislain asked again.
"No, I was just wondering if it was a house I'm familiar with."
"…The House of Ladran."
At that, Ghislain flinched in surprise. He had suspected as much, and he was right.
Holy crap. He really is the founding king, huh?
Before Ghislain's rebellion and rise to power, Lutania had been ruled by the royal family of Ladran.
That means when the war ended and he established the Kingdom of Lutania, he kept his original family name.
It's common to create a new family name when founding a nation — to become the first of a new line.
But for some reason, Lionel had kept the name of the family he was born into.
Well, I guess it didn't matter, since he became known as the founding king and progenitor of the royal line anyway.
Still, there were puzzling aspects.
— They say the founding king… was the Saintess's… servant.
The former king of Lutania, Berhem, had clearly said so.
But no matter how he looked at it, Lionel didn't seem like someone who would serve another. Even now, he exuded the dignity of a noble and the discipline of a temple knight.
It must've gotten twisted somewhere along the way. Or maybe something changed later on.
Just meeting the future founding king was a major accomplishment. Feeling good, Ghislain beamed and held out his hand.
"Let's get along from now on."
"…Understood."
As the two shook hands, the Pope spoke in a gentle voice.
"Lionel is a knight of such rare talent, even the Holy Empire has few to match. He will surely be a great help on your journey, so place your trust in one another and light each other's path."
"Yes, understood."
"You seem to be of similar age, so I hope you build a close bond and friendship."
"I feel the same. I'll make an effort to befriend him."
After their conversation with the Pope, everything progressed smoothly. As per the mission's terms, Ghislain's group received a generous sum of support funds. The officials of the Empire took care of all the travel preparations as well.
And as a reward for capturing Ismogen, Ghislain demanded a number of artifacts. He wasn't picky — anything imbued with magic would do.
The Pope willingly handed over a good number of treasures.
After securing both funds and artifacts, Ghislain immediately left the Grand Temple. But the direction he was heading was completely different from the intended destination.
The newly joined Lionel cautiously asked,
"Aren't we setting off right away?"
"Ah, I've got something to do first. By the way, feel free to speak casually. That's how we do things around here. We seem about the same age, too."
"No, I'm comfortable like this."
"The Pope said we should form a close bond and friendship, remember? I don't like stiff relationships."
"…Alright, then."
True to his upright nature, the moment the Pope's command was invoked, Lionel adjusted immediately. He seemed unexpectedly easy to handle.
Seeing this, Ghislain smiled brightly. He had just gained a way to uncover the origins of the Kingdom of Lutania that he'd always been curious about.
While Ghislain was in high spirits, Osval eyed Lionel warily.
'The youngest, huh? He must be the youngest? He's got this insane aura about him…'
Lionel radiated not just reverence, but a sense of holiness. That unsettled Osval.
Not wanting to lose his standing in the hierarchy, Osval deliberately approached Lionel with a scowl and said,
"Hey, you're the youngest now. That's how mercenaries do it. Just listen to me, Osval the Great, and you'll be fine, got it?"
Lionel looked at Osval with a cold expression. It was a stark contrast from the way he looked at Ghislain.
Osval flinched under Lionel's gaze. Even though the man was only staring, the intensity of his eyes felt like blades slicing into his whole body.
After a moment of silence, Lionel spoke in a flat voice.
"I am not a mercenary. So don't waste your breath on me."
Not wanting to back down, Osval tensed his abs and replied,
"Oh, you're not? You should've said so. Thought you were just another new merc. Then never mind. Hahaha…"
Losing his dignity, Osval slinked away with a bitter expression and whispered to Kyle,
"Boss, that guy's so full of himself. We should teach him a lesson, yeah? Osval the Great, always with you till the end."
"..."
"Tonight? Deal?"
"…Just leave it."
"What, scared of the new guy?"
"..."
When Kyle silently raised a fist, Osval darted off.
Though he didn't side with Osval, Kyle also wasn't fond of Lionel.
Everything about Lionel's demeanor exuded an odd mix of confidence and arrogance, as if screaming "I'm not like the rest of you."
'Tch. Show-off.'
And the thing was, he really was exceptional. A noble-born, a promising knight of the Empire, and a direct subordinate of the Pope as a temple knight.
Kyle, a country bumpkin, was on a completely different level in terms of background. On top of that, Lionel had an aristocratic, handsome face.
He had the aura of a classic hero — and that rubbed Kyle the wrong way.
'Still, I've got the upper hand in skill. Probably?'
Ghislain had put him through hellish training, practically abuse, and he'd had plenty of real combat experience. He'd grown like a weed through adversity.
So if he ever had to fight that hot-house flower of a man, he wouldn't lose. He couldn't lose.
Perhaps because Kyle had been glaring at Lionel's back too long, Lionel suddenly turned around.
Their eyes met briefly. But Lionel simply looked away with indifferent eyes.
'That bastard…'
Feeling as though he'd been utterly dismissed, Kyle ground his teeth.
Sometimes, two people just don't click from the first meeting. For Kyle, Lionel was one of those people.
He instinctively knew they were fundamentally different.
Unlike Kyle, Yulian and Deneb were treating Lionel kindly.
They were actually more worried that the new addition might feel uncomfortable in their rough-and-tumble mercenary group, and kept trying to talk to him and take care of him.
Seeing that, Kyle scoffed.
'Tch, go ahead and be nice — that guy already thinks he's above us. He's just being polite because the Pope told him to.'
Lionel wasn't being rude to the others. But it was obvious he kept his distance.
He showed at least some respect to Yulian, since he was the captain. And he was formally polite to Ghislain, given that he negotiated directly with the Pope.
But he didn't even make eye contact with Deneb. Deneb, in turn, looked incredibly nervous around Lionel.
Which made sense. Lionel was a temple knight directly under the Pope. Deneb was a low-ranking priest from the countryside. To him, Lionel was an untouchable figure.
And Lionel really did treat Deneb like she didn't exist.
'He seriously doesn't even see a lowly priestess as a person.'
It wasn't just Lionel. Despite Deneb having met the Pope in person, nobody paid her any attention.
To them, Deneb wasn't just insignificant — she was an embarrassment. A lowly priestess tagging along with a mercenary band, tarnishing the Church's reputation.
So they treated her like she didn't exist.
The other mercenaries picked up on it, too. But Church politics weren't something they could interfere in.
The priests of the Grand Temple could be ignored — they'd never see them again. But having to travel with someone like Lionel, who made his disdain clear, was another matter entirely. It made Kyle's blood boil.
'Arrogant prick… Acting like he's all that? I swear, I'll knock him down a peg later.'
Still glaring at Lionel's back, Kyle's lips kept twitching. He had an overwhelming urge to deck the smug bastard.
Thanks to the subtle but palpable pressure Lionel exuded, an awkward atmosphere persisted. The other mercenaries also began to feel uncomfortable around him.
But Ghislain, fully aware of the tension, didn't seem to mind at all.
"Just let him do as he pleases."
Right now, Lionel was practically the Pope's informant. Ghislain wanted to understand how this man ended up fighting alongside the Hero and founding Lutania.
That's why, for the time being, he planned to simply observe.
The place Ghislain led the group to was Serana's Grand Temple, located in the most remote corner of the imperial capital.
"Whoa…"
The group gasped in awe as they saw Serana's Grand Temple.
Black stone walls soared toward the sky, and the massive grey hall, with not a single window, seemed to silently warn the living to stay away.
A gloomy stillness hung over the area around the temple. Even their breathing felt as though it sank into the heavy air. The silence stirred a deep sense of reverence in them.
Osval shivered slightly and whispered to the mercenary next to him.
"Jeez, what kind of temple looks like a haunted house? Right?"
"You scared?"
"A real man is never scared. But ghosts, you know, I can't hit them. That's the scary part. Can't be helped."
"…Sure."
The high priests of Serana greeted Ghislain's group with expressionless faces.
"Welcome. You mentioned you'd be staying here for a while?"
Ghislain replied with a pious expression.
"Yes. Before departing on our journey, I'd like to offer prayers to Lady Serana and take time to atone for my sins."
"…At this place, of all places?"
The priest looked slightly surprised.
Serana was the goddess of death. Though her church was one of the Four Great Churches, it was treated somewhat differently from the others that served other deities.
Because they worshipped death, the Church of Serana was often viewed as taboo, and many avoided even setting foot there.
So, to request to pray here — it was only natural for the priest to be puzzled.
Ghislain smiled brightly.
"Other places aren't bad either, but… there's no better place for quiet reflection, wouldn't you agree?"
"Hm, that's true."
The priest nodded.
Serana's church had the fewest followers, and its priests, unlike those of other orders, focused solely on silent meditation, introspection, and inner discipline rather than proselytizing.
Aside from presiding over funerals, they rarely engaged with the outside world.
Within the ever-silent sanctuary, they pursued only the truth of the "end," with no concern for the bustle of life.
Indeed, if one could adjust to the eerie, heavy atmosphere, there was no better place for stillness and reflection.
The priest spoke with a blank expression.
"Understood. We will prepare a resting space for you. You requested a large area, correct?"
"Yes. A space large enough to fit at least a hundred people would be ideal."
Ghislain would be the only one performing the penitential rite. The others were simply going to stay in the temple's accommodations while waiting for him.
It was curious why he needed such a large space, but the priest didn't pry further.
The priests here valued maintaining inner calm and avoiding worldly attachments above all else.
They didn't question Ghislain's identity either. He held a credential personally vouched for by the Pope, and most importantly, the famed temple knight Lionel was accompanying him.
As the priest led them, the group began whispering amongst themselves.
"Why are we here, anyway?"
"Who knows what's going on in the vice-captain's head. Just pretend you don't notice — less headache that way."
"And what's this 'penitential prayer' thing? Isn't he the kind of guy who wouldn't regret it even if he ended up in hell?"
"Crazy people say crazy things, right? Probably just another crazy thing."
"Exactly. Don't give it too much meaning. Think too hard and we'll all go crazy too."
Hearing the mercenaries' chatter, Lionel looked a bit flustered.
'What is this? What kind of man is he to be talked about like that?'
Ghislain had been entrusted with a mission directly from the Pope. He seemed a bit arrogant, sure, but as long as he carried out the mission properly, Lionel had decided to withhold judgment.
But to hear even his subordinates speak this way — it made Lionel feel something was off.
While Lionel remained puzzled, the rest of the group headed to their assigned rooms, clearly indifferent to whatever Ghislain was up to.
Ghislain was guided to a prayer chamber called the "Room of Silence."
This prayer room lay deep within the temple, in a shadowed space even the priests stepped into with caution.
In the vast interior lined with looming columns like silhouettes, there wasn't a single window — only grey walls and floor stretching endlessly.
No decorations, no icons, nothing. A drab space devoid of all adornment. Left alone there, Ghislain grinned and began pulling things out of his subspace pocket.
What he retrieved were the corpses of knights he had collected, and the magic-infused artifacts he'd received from the Pope.
"Yep, the energy here is really clean(?) and nice. I can make some wonderful new friends."
Though Serana governed death, her essence was still divine. It was fundamentally different from the vengeful, malice-driven black magic of necromancers.
Nonetheless, Ghislain immediately began manufacturing death knights — creating cursed beings within the sacred temple of a divine goddess.
The next day, as always, the priests of Serana carried out their silent meditations throughout the temple — until they began to tilt their heads in confusion.
'What's going on? Why do I feel so… uneasy all of a sudden?'
'Maybe I've been sleeping poorly? Or… am I just lonely?'
'After all these years of nothing but meditation, maybe all that repressed anger is catching up…'
'Feels like a demon has descended upon the world.'
They had no idea what was truly happening, so they simply tried to regain their inner peace as usual.
But that could only last so long. The strange feeling grew stronger with each passing day.
By the third day, the energy had become tangible — a prickling sensation coursing through their bodies. It was eerily similar to their own divine power, yet unmistakably different.
This only deepened the priests' confusion.
'Who is emanating this kind of energy during their practice? Did something bad happen to them?'
'This… kinda feels like black magic… but also sort of like our holy power… Ah, I don't know anymore.'
'Come on, no way… Who'd be insane enough to cast black magic in a sacred Grand Temple? No one would dare.'
'Must be a misunderstanding. Our holy power is a bit on the gloomy side…'
They tried their best to shake off the distraction and find peace according to doctrine. But it became harder and harder to stay composed.
Guhhhhhhhhhh...
They began to hear it — a faint scream from somewhere deep below, as if rising from the depths of an abyss.
At last, the priests abandoned their meditations and stood up. They had to find the source of this grotesque disturbance.
Their eyes turned toward one place… the very room where Ghislain was staying—the "Room of Silence."